The white sheep of the family
Smiling faintly at Weaver's response, Loren began pressing his hands into the center of the dough. "Well then, I'll point someone at you next time they're unpleasantly surprised by me." Once he had a small well in the center of the dough, he began to pour the buttermilk he'd prepared earlier.
When she requested a scone, he let out a huff of laughter. "Then ask the chefs. This is for me." He flashed her a grin.
Letting out another huff of laughter, he nodded. Then he gave her a slightly amused. "It wasn't skulking, it was wallflowering. Why do you ask?" Tilting his head, he gave her a curious look. "And what'd you think of the festivities?"
When she requested a scone, he let out a huff of laughter. "Then ask the chefs. This is for me." He flashed her a grin.
Letting out another huff of laughter, he nodded. Then he gave her a slightly amused. "It wasn't skulking, it was wallflowering. Why do you ask?" Tilting his head, he gave her a curious look. "And what'd you think of the festivities?"
Will blood tell
